


Seafarer

by exilefromlife



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Gentle Kissing, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:21:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22706854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exilefromlife/pseuds/exilefromlife
Summary: Flynn got captured--not his first time. This time, he has a knight in shining armor (so to speak) to rescue him.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw
Comments: 17
Kudos: 83
Collections: Love is in the Air Fic Exchange 2020





	Seafarer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cadoan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cadoan/gifts).



There’s a liquid dripping down from the tip of his nose and his fingers and he’s not sure if it’s from blood, tears, sweat, or the general damp of the ship’s hold. The dank cloth that’s been made into a makeshift blindfold covers his eyes effectively, so he can’t look to tell. The latest in a long line of introductions to the mutineers’ fists and slipshod lines of interrogation left him in a state. He huffs out a breath of amusement that makes his bruised—maybe broken, he’s not sure—ribs hurt something fierce.

The sudden tap of a hard sole over wooden planks catches his ear despite being muffled by his injuries. He tenses at the noise but instantly relaxes when a gruff voice bites out his name.

“Captain Fairwind.” Mathias Shaw, Spymaster of the Alliance, says shortly.

“Shaw!” Flynn says cheerily, mask of habit easily covering his fear and pain of the past few days. “About time, mate. Care to give a poor sailor a hand?”

Shaw doesn’t respond but is quick to cut through the ropes holding his hands behind his back and around his chest. A small noise of sympathy is made when Flynn bites back a yelp when his arms fall forward, causing his muscles to spasm. The blindfold is next to go, gently removed to reveal the darkness of a ship’s hold and the concerned expression on the spymaster’s face. Those green eyes dart over his body and Shaw makes a noncommittal grunt.

“You’re a mess.” The man states simply.

“Fine thing to say! Shaw, you wound me.” He tries to grin but his face doesn’t move quite right. Maybe something to do with the dizzying sensation in his head? He’s sure it has to do with that when Shaw’s eyes widen ever so slightly.

“Do you think you can stand?” The redhead gives him a once over that would have Flynn squirming in any other context, but he thinks it’s warranted on this occasion.

“Of course I can!” He says with confidence, only to be utterly betrayed by his legs and pitching forward when the leg he tries to stand with gives. Flynn groans from his new sprawled position and dry-heaves when his head decides to chime in with its displeasure. Gloved hands are instantly at his shoulder, easing him upright. The captain gives the spymaster a rueful smile. “Better make that a no.”

Shaw frowns at him, then whips his head around when the planks at the landing of the stairs creak. He shifts to hide Flynn from view before his shoulders relax. “Report.”

“Ship and prisoners are secure.” Flynn’s smile grows at Taelia’s voice. She peeks around Shaw and mimics Shaw’s frown. “You’ve seen better days, Flynn.”

“I’ve seen worse, in my defense.” He does feel awful, though, and he’s not sure if it’s getting worse. Taelia’s voice seems far away when she speaks.

“Concussion, I’m sure of it. And those bruises?” The voice trails off, but Flynn feels a hand on his cheek before he doesn’t feel anything anymore.

-

When he comes to awareness again, there’s a cool cloth on his forehead, light shining in the window to his right--not his house or the berth on his ship, then--and a lightly snoring spymaster on his left. He looks down at the man, whose arms are crossed to pillow his head, and a flutter in his chest starts when he sees the black ring on his finger catch the light. Flynn frowns down at his own hands and notes that they’ve been bandaged tightly, meaning his own ring was likely removed. He tries to shuffle himself into a more upright position, but a calm voice from the doorway stops him.

“You may want to stay prone, for now. Your injuries were extensive, even for my capabilities.” Anduin Wrynn states.

“Your--” he tries to greet the High King, but is reduced to coughing painfully when the words catch in his throat. The king is at his side in a blink, pressing the lip of a cup to his mouth and allowing him to drink carefully.

“And you might want to wait to speak too much. Though if Shaw is to be believed, that might be a feat in and of itself.” The king looks down at the man in question and smirks.

To Flynn’s surprise, the coughing and conversation haven’t disturbed his sleep. If he weren’t an intelligent man--which he is, thank you very much--he would think Shaw was just overtired. Instead he looks at the blond man next to him. “What did you do to him?” His voice is harsh, as if he’d spent a week without water in Vol’dun. The former pirate looks longingly at the water in the rest of the cup, and the king is quick to offer it back to him.

The king speaks as a sharp eye keeps watch of the water intake. “Some herbs mixed in the proper proportions can result in a deep, undisturbed sleep. And,” he pauses and looks down at the cup. “If there’s any peacebloom seeds mixed in, it is completely tasteless.”

Flynn’s mind catches on then and his eyes widen, realizing that he, too, has been drugged. “You would have made a fun pirate, your majesty.”

“So Wrathion keeps stating.” The mention of the king’s beloved consort makes Flynn’s eyebrow go up.

“He made it, didn’t he?” The world suddenly tips around him and he can feel his muscles going lax and his eyebrows drooping. “That conniving bastard….”

He hears the king’s snort, then the blanket of sleep covers him once more.

-

Mathias Shaw is not a man to be trifled with under any circumstances. He’s earned his position at Spymaster and right hand to the High King, and now--he turns to face the other individual in the room and barely keeps a leash on his anger. Nothing good came of him losing his temper, so he takes a deep breath and reins it in.

“Perhaps you could enlighten me as to why you decided that drugging me was the best course of action.” He says, voice tight.

Wrathion, for his part, simply watches him, red eyes gleaming with amusement. “It was either that or I hit you over the head. I thought you would appreciate the concussion even less.”

The redhead gives the dragon a cold look. “And why, _exactly_ , did you think I needed to be unconscious?”

The dragon huffs out a puff of smoke and grumbles in Draconic to himself for a few moments before his hard glare makes Shaw’s own anger subside. “Because you weren’t going to rest otherwise, and you were _getting in the way!_ If you had kept hovering about the way you were, Anduin wouldn’t have been able to heal your husband the way he needed to, putting _both_ of them more at risk. I didn’t think that would be a good idea, so perhaps you might want to take your frustrations out on someone else!”

Shaw stops, frowning, pieces falling into place in his still potion-addled mind. “You were scared for Flynn, too, weren’t you?”

“Of course I was!” Wrathion snaps, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “The two of you are my _friends_ , seeing him hurt like that was awful, and seeing you that frantic was, frankly, deeply unsettling. So I handled it.”

Shaw opens his mouth to thank him for the concern, but is interrupted by the prince striding over towards the door. The spymaster turns as well and sees a somewhat haggard-looking Anduin entering the small office. He watches silently as the two royals have a whole conversation with a look and turns away when they press their foreheads together. He hears his king’s soft footfalls and meets his eye as Anduin places a hand on his shoulder.

“He’s going to be okay.” The young man says confidently, if with more than a healthy helping of weariness. “He needs to sleep for the rest of the magic to work, but he’ll heal. Shaw?”

He feels the tears streaming down his face and grows irritated with his lack of control. He is worried about his husband, his mischievous, talkative, _wonderful_ pirate, but to openly cry? He’s losing his touch.

The hug he gets from both Anduin and Wrathion makes him feel a little better about showing such emotion, however, even if it also makes him extremely uncomfortable. He settles into it anyway, knowing the two of them are showing their support in the way they both know how.

-

The second time Flynn wakes after his rescue is significantly more comfortable. The window has been shuttered, the room is cool and bed warm, and, perhaps best of all, Mathias is tucked neatly against his side. He’s not aware of the rumble in his chest until his husband stirs from his sleep. Flynn shifts his arm—no longer bandaged, he notes—to gently rub the redhead’s back.

“That’s nice.” Mathias mumbles into his chest, not moving from his position.

“I’m glad you think so. You almost stabbed me the first time I did that, as I recall.” He replies with amusement, keeping his voice low.

“Mm. It was also very early.”

Flynn looks over to the window and sees that there’s bright light coming shining around the edges of the shutter slats. His memory’s too fuzzy to remember if he’d woken since the king had drugged him, so he’s not sure how long he’s been asleep. “What time is it, love?”

“Likely mid-afternoon. I’d have to move for my watch.” His tone suggests that that isn’t something he’s willing to do any time soon. “You’ve been asleep for four days. No, don’t move!”

Flynn settles back down from his startled move to sit up. “Four days?! How bad off was I?”

Mathias shifts against him. “Please don’t.”

“It’s either you tell me now or I just ask the king later.” It’s not a threat, and he makes sure his tone conveys that. He doesn’t want to pressure his husband, but he wants to know what his captors had done to him. He’s careful to not mention that the reason for his capture had been to attract the attention of the spymaster. _That_ would be a bad course of action, though apparently Mathias had methods of attack that circumvented such things.

His husband makes a noise from where he’s tucked against him and sighs, making Flynn jolt with how it tickles. “Several broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, three torn muscles, a multitude of cuts and scrapes, and enough internal bleeding to get the attention of eight different healers, not to mention the lashes you’d taken and bruising underneath them. Oh, and a concussion that had the king worried almost as much as me.”

Flynn shifts to look down at his husband without getting a crick in his neck. He looks at him with a careful eye, paying attention to the details someone less acquainted with the man wouldn’t notice. His hair was mussed from more than sleeping and he obviously hadn’t shaved in at least the time Flynn had been asleep. The ex-pirate reaches over with his right hand to take a hold of the one Mathias had resting on his diaphragm. The fingers are too warm--a sure sign that he’d been fussing with his blades to fill the space in his day. “Wyrmbane put you on leave?”

The smaller man shakes his head as he laces their fingers together. “The king did. He told Wyrmbane that I’d be on leave for no less than a month, no more than three, and to figure it out. I think he was just as eager to be rid of me as the king was to make me rest.”

“I’m surprised they hadn’t forced you to take leave before now. Your reaction times were getting damned sluggish, mate.”

Flynn realizes its exactly the wrong thing to say when their quiet moment is shattered by Mathias twisting and standing in a fluid motion. “You think I don’t know that? That I didn’t think of how much faster I should have been when they took you?! They shouldn’t have gotten as far as they had, not by half! Instead, they snuck through my watch and stole you from me before I could even raise an alarm!” Mathias runs a hand through his hair and stalks over to the table on the far end of the room, sloshing some beverage into a cup and knocking it back as if he’s in a competition. “I’ve gone through that night in my head every night since you were taken from me. I know _exactly_ what mistakes I made and how little of an excuse I have for any of them.”

“You don’t have to make excuses, Matty.” Bringing out the nickname was a dirty play, but it at least got the spymaster looking in his direction as he sits up in bed. “That night was _not_ your fault.”

“How can you say that after what you’ve been through?” His husband says quietly, shoulders slumped in defeat. “My failure almost led to your death…and Light, I hope that’s the last time you’re a hair’s breadth away from it.”

“Mate, I’ve been through worse and come even closer than this to death. You’ve seen the scars. You know.” Flynn swings his legs over the edge of the bed and tries to stand before his head swims and he falls back down into a sitting position. He grumbles to himself. “That’s damned inconvenient.”

“That much healing is going to leave you dizzy for a while.” Mathias says in a detached voice. “You may want to stay in bed.”

Any other day, any other time, Flynn would leap on the opportunity to make an innuendo, but he sees the slight shake in the redhead’s shoulders and frowns. “Please don’t go.” It’s a plea, knowing the other man is ready to run like he always is when he starts blaming himself for one of the Kul Tiran’s messes.

The man doesn’t answer, just comes closer to the bed. As soon as he’s close enough, Flynn wraps his arms around his midsection and looks up at him. “Forgive me.” He says down to the larger man.

“Of course I do, love, but the only thing you need to ask it for is leaving the bed. There’s a cold spot now!” He glances over and pouts. “Can we lie together again?”

“Mm.” Mathias nods and watches Flynn settle again before joining him on the bed. He doesn’t resume his position curled against Flynn’s side, instead propping himself up on an arm to look at the brunet. “I almost lost you.”

“Love, if you’re still worried about it, you could always assuage your guilt by making it up to me.” He looks pointedly down at his husband's mouth before making eye contact again.

Mathias, Light bless him, takes the hint and kisses Flynn like his life depends on it. He’s gentle--always gentle--as they exchange open mouth kisses before deepening them into something more primal. Flynn can’t help the noise that he makes as Mathias licks into his mouth. It had been so long since they’d had a chance to be intimate…since the wedding, the pirate realizes with dismay. After that, it was cleaning up after the war, investigating and fighting some tentacled piece of shit and its minions, and more cleaning up. It had been six _months_ of nothing but his memory and own hand and now? Well.

He drops his head back to separate them and meets the spymaster’s green eyes. “Mathias, I’ve _missed_ you.” He takes a hold of his husband's hips, bringing him down flush with his own body, and kisses him again.

The smaller man groans into it, rolling his hips down against Flynn. They both gasp at the contact, Flynn breaking the kiss again to tilt his head back and give Mathias more to work with. The smaller man immediately takes advantage of this, nipping along the curve of Flynn’s throat with abandon. He smirks against the pirate’s skin as the larger man whimpers and begins to suck on that spot.

Flynn feels every suck and bite like electricity going straight to his cock. He’s normally sensitive, so that’s not unusual, but this? Oh, _Light_ , it’s been too long. The sound that works its way out of his throat couldn’t be labeled as anything but desperate on any plane of existence. It _hurts_ with how loud it is, and the smirk against his neck grows. He realizes that Mathias probably _felt_ how loud he just was.

“Mathias, please, I need--” His words fail him as his husband moves and works a hand between them to rub at the front of Flynn’s smallclothes. “Ahn!”

“That’s it, my darling.” Mathias says huskily. “Let me take care of you?”

Flynn nods hastily, lifting his hips when the other man taps them. The smallclothes are pulled off and thrown somewhere in the room. He throws his arms around Mathias when he strokes a finger down the length of his cock before taking it firmly in hand. He can feel the familiar callouses from the knives his husband uses and arches into it as his cock twitches.

“ _Look_ at you.” Mathias purrs, stroking him harder and in all the right ways. “Light, I love you.”

Flynn would like to claim he has more stamina than he did when he was a teenager, but those words set his entire being on fire and he can’t help it when he comes with a scream. He can feel his bones creak with how forcefully he arches off the bed, but they’re eased by the fuzziness that comes on the heels of such an abrupt orgasm. He opens his eyes and notices two things. First, that Mathias is licking his spend off his fingers, and second, despite coming once, he’s _still hard_. It almost hurts to still be hard afterwards, but he sees that Mathias has also taken off his clothes and is suddenly immensely grateful.

He spreads his legs for his husband and grins when the redhead makes a sound like a dying man. “Eager?”

“Asks the man that just came everywhere.” Mathias retorts as he moves Flynn’s legs to rest on his shoulders and scoots down the bed. Flynn smiles down at him and knows the man’s telegraphing his moves purely for Flynn’s benefit.

“Is that a problem?” He asks before groaning as Mathias licks his hole.

“No, but I intend to get you to do that again before dusk.” He responds casually before setting his mind to turning Flynn into mush.

His tongue is hot against the pirate’s entrance, licking gently and working him up enough to whine loudly and thrust his hands into Mathias’ hair. The answering rumble makes Flynn twitch and gasp, shaking with how much he needs the other man. It isn’t long before his husband’s tongue works its way inside of him, pressing against him in a way that makes him _writhe_. He tugs Mathias’ hair roughly and gasps.

“Matty, please, _Light!_ ” He flings an arm over to the set of drawers next to the bed. Even though this is a healing room and not their own, he knows the king well enough that he probably left something in there for them. He rummages frantically as the other man continues fucking him with his tongue. He exhales sharply when his fingers wrap around a small glass bottle at the same instant that Mathias does _something_ with his tongue that makes Flynn yelp out a curse. He practically flings the bottle at the man and focuses on not losing his mind.

He hears the soft pop of a cork, a chuckle, and the Mathias kisses the inside of his thigh. “No, why’d you stop?!” He whines, looking down. That alone is a mistake, because Mathias looks so damned _pleased_ that it takes his breath away. His head falls back to the pillow and he chokes back a sob.

“Shh, you’re going to like this.” His husband says with complete confidence. “Just relax for me.”

Flynn tries, he really does, but each gentle brush of those talented fingers against his entrance makes his body tighten with arousal. “Mathias, please, I can’t…I need…I--AH!!” The hand still in his husband’s hair grips it tightly as his cock is enveloped in delicious heat. At the same time, a finger slips into him, and Flynn feels himself shaking, he wants it so badly. “Yes, oh _fuck!_ ”

It doesn’t take long for Mathias to work up to two, then three fingers inside of him, not with his mouth distracting the pirate very efficiently. So efficiently, in fact, that Flynn’s still riding the sensations after the other man pulled off of him and starts talking. It takes three tries for him to understand his husband.

There’s a twinkle in the spymaster’s eyes as he repeats himself again. “Do you want it like this, or do you want to move?”

Flynn shakes his head vigorously, quickly wrapping his legs around the redhead’s hips to keep him there. “Like this. I want to see you.”

“Good.” He lines himself up and slowly sinks into Flynn, which is when the pirate realizes that his muscles are so relaxed that there’s _no way_ they haven’t been affected by the oil Mathias had used. Mathias looks down and chuckles when he sees the puzzlement on Flynn’s face. “I won’t tell you what was in the oil, but it’s used in massages a lot. Soothes without numbing.” He punctuates the point with a short thrust that makes both of them moan.

“Good--good to know.” He loops his arms around his husband. “I know you’re good at multitasking. Think you could kiss me _and_ fuck me?”

“Likely.” Mathias leans down to kiss him filthily and starts to thrust into him _hard_.

It’s all Flynn can do to hold on and try to kiss back as best he can, but it feels so good that he’s left gasping as Mathias tucks his head in the space between the larger man’s neck and shoulder, kissing him there and marking him up in a way that has Flynn leaking profusely between them. The redhead props himself up on one arm--and oh, those biceps are right next to Flynn and he can’t even manage to get his mouth on them. His cock jerks at the thought, smearing more precome between their stomachs. _Later_ , he thinks. _I’ll lick them later_.

With his other arm, he reaches behind himself to take one of Flynn’s hands and bring it down to kiss gently. The juxtaposition of tenderness with the rough thrusts into him has him seeing stars and whimpering. Mathias kisses his palm before placing the hand back on his shoulder and shifting to sit more on his knees.

The new angle has Flynn completely wordless as Mathias drills into him, cock pressing into his prostate with every thrust. He meets his husband’s eyes, and the other man brings a hand up to softly wipe away the tears gathering at the corners of Flynn’s eyes. “I love you, Flynn. So very much.”

Flynn sobs into the kiss that follows, desperate for the man he adores. He knows Mathias is close when he feels him wrap around his cock again, jerking him off with a firm grasp that’s _just_ this side of too much. He feels the familiar tightening of his nerves in his belly and smiles against the other man’s lips when his thrusts start to stutter. “Come with me, Mathias.”

That’s all it takes for both of them to fly apart, coming only a few seconds apart. Flynn relaxes first, panting with how hard he came-- _again_. His husband settles on top of him, breathing just as hard. Flynn feels Mathias snuggle into the position and chuckles, feeling the best he has in _weeks_. “We need to clean up, love.”

“Not our bed, not our problem.” He responds, snuggling further and making Flynn laugh again. He does slide himself gently out of the larger man and extricates himself from the mess they made of the bed. “I’ll get a cloth, try not to make a bigger mess by moving.”

It’s the snark that Flynn’s familiar with, which brings a broad smile to his face. Mathias stops in his motions to lean down and kiss him again, this time softer and not as urgent. When they part, Flynn gives him a quizzical look.

Mathias blushes. “That smile…that was the first thing I fell in love with.” He shakes his head with a smile of his own and goes to get a cloth for cleaning from the attached bathing room.

Flynn sighs happily and does his best not to move. After all, he wants to see more of Mathias’ smile. His eyes slowly close and he hears a distant snort as sleep takes him again, this time comfortable and in the care of his love.


End file.
